Bea's Heart
by Shootingstar7123
Summary: The young and flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother, Allison, becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. House/Cameron.
1. Homecoming

Bea's Heart:

Homecoming

-

A/N: Partially inspired by The Thorn Birds, a wonderful miniseries that Pyewacket made me watch! So you should be thanking her for this fic! :)

I'm just about done with all my coursework, so I should have time to write from now on! I'm currently working on several things, but this idea wouldn't let me go. Enjoy!

-

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

---

"_Dream of the soft look your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep."_

-

Allison Cameron looked up sharply at the unexpected sound, looking out the kitchen window.

Her hands stilled suddenly, the mail falling to the counter. She rushed to the front door to see a petite girl with dark blonde curls walking up the steps.

"Bea… what are you doing home?" Allison asked, puzzled.

Allison's daughter collapsed into her arms in tears. "Bea," Allison whispered softly, stroking her hair. "What is it?"

Beatrice pulled away, still in tears. "Mom, you wouldn't understand!" she cried.

Allison pulled her daughter inside slowly, shutting the front door behind them. "I'll make you a cup of tea, and then maybe you'll feel well enough to talk, okay?" she offered, and her daughter nodded reluctantly.

Allison got the kettle boiling, and then settled down across the kitchen table from her daughter, who sat silently with a fragile sort of resentment surrounding her. "Bea… you've got to tell me," she said softly, reaching for her daughter's hand across the table.

Beatrice's tearful eyes looked across into her mother's kind ones. "You won't be able to help, Mom, you don't know what it's like!" she protested, breaking out from her quiet prison.

"Try me," Allison said, her expression a combination of probing and reassuring.

Beatrice sighed, giving in. "Dr. Brookshire is leaving and it's all my fault!" She burst into tears again.

Allison tried to calm her. "Okay… who is Dr. Brookshire?"

Bea sniffled. "He's my philosophy professor."

Allison stood up to finish making the tea, giving Beatrice some space. "And why do you think this is your fault, Bea?" Allison finally asked as she sat down again, a mug in each hand.

Bea gave her mother a pained look, her gray eyes pooled with tears, and began crying anew. Allison understood right away. "Oh, my dear," she said, coming around to hold her. "My sweet Bea. I'm so sorry."

She held the girl until the sobs subsided. "Want to tell me about it?"

Beatrice shrugged, a miserable expression on her features. "We've been dancing around each other all semester, and as soon as he allowed something to happen between us, he leaves!" The tears she tried to hold back were rolling down her cheeks. "He announced it in class this morning, he hadn't even said a word to me!" she cried. "We spoke after class, but only for a moment. He said it was because of me that he had to go. He said I'd understand when I'm older, but he's the one who doesn't understand! In only a few weeks he won't be my professor anymore and it won't matter! And now I'll never see him again!"

Allison pulled her daughter to her again, stroking her hair. "I know it hurts, Bea," she reassured her, her heart breaking for her only child, her only family left in the world. She held her until the sobs quieted.

"Oh, Mom," Beatrice moaned, "No one can understand how much this hurts me!"

Allison smiled to herself gently. "I believe I can understand, Bea."

Her daughter pulled away, her face unbelieving. "But how could you, Mom?" Beatrice protested. "You don't love anyone but me, you said so yourself!"

"That wasn't always the case," Allison answered, her eyes far away. "There was someone once."

"You told me about your first husband," Bea reminded. "But that wasn't anything like this!" she said miserably.

"In some ways it was probably more similar than you'd be willing to admit—but no, that's not the story I had in mind," her mother gently responded, a small, strange smile coming across her face. "Did I ever tell you about Gregory House?" Bea shook her head, puzzled.

Allison's smile widened. "Gregory House was a beautiful man. The bluest eyes you've ever seen, tall, strong… and he was my boss," she finished wryly.

Beatrice brightened a bit, beginning to look slightly interested.

Allison took that as an opportunity to continue. "He was also the biggest jerk at the hospital. Maybe in the state!" Bea's eyebrows jumped up, and Allison laughed. "He had a formidable reputation as a doctor, and for his personality as well. He had a brick wall around him a mile high," she continued, "But there was always something there behind the wall. I got glimpses of it sometimes, but he guarded it well." Her eyes were unfocused now, seeing nothing but the past.

"I knew there was something special about him from the first moment I laid eyes on him…"

_Allison Cameron breathed in deeply as she stepped off the elevator. She was nervous—her potential employer had quite a reputation._

_She calmed herself. She must seem confident, even if she was shaking inside._

"_Welcome, Dr. Cameron," greeted a man with warm brown eyes and kind smile. He couldn't possibly be the infamous Dr. House, could he?_

_And then she saw him. Seated behind the desk with a bored look on his chiseled features. His eyes were shockingly blue, and when they met hers it felt like a jolt of electricity ran through her. They stared._

"_Dr. Cameron," the brown-eyed man began, "I am Dr. Wilson and this is Dr. House."_

_Cameron stuck out a hand to Dr. House that he didn't take. She dropped it back down to her side as he studied her._

_He never spoke during the interview. Dr. Wilson asked all the usual questions, and House's eyes were always on her._

_The interview concluded, and Cameron stood, shaking Dr. Wilson's hand. _

"_Dr. Cameron," she heard, from a different, deeper voice. Dr. House was speaking. "You start on Monday." Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped open, but she managed a slight nod as she stepped out the door and walked down the hall in a fog. _

Allison came out of her reverie to find her daughter now listening intently. "Well, what happened on Monday?" she asked, her head resting in her hands, the tears from earlier drying on her cheeks.

Allison couldn't help but smile at her daughter's interest. "Nothing, at least at first," she admitted. "But I always felt like he would get closer than he had to when he came up to me in the lab, let his hands linger a bit when I handed him his coffee, and I always felt those piercing eyes on me. When our eyes met…" she trailed off with a sigh. "It was like the world was on fire."

Beatrice grinned. "Oh, Mom, it's like a movie!"

Allison smiled back at her daughter, then glanced at her watch. "How would you like to hit up the grocery store and movie rental so we can have a girls night tonight? Homemade pizza sound good?"

"Sounds perfect," Beatrice responded, standing up. Allison stood, too, getting ready to head out. "Hey, Mom," Bea suddenly said. "Thanks." She hugged her.

-

A/N: Hope you liked the beginning! It'll only get better from here, I promise. ;) The quotation at the beginning (and at the beginning of all the chapters) is by W. B. Yeats.


	2. Dreams and Memories

Bea's Heart:

Dreams and Memories

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

"_But I, being poor, have only my dreams."_

Allison Cameron was in her own world of thought as she and her daughter split ways at the supermarket.

Bea was so innocent that she often wondered if she had done wrong to raise her out on the "homestead" as she affectionately called it. It was just the two of them, out of the world, Allison protecting the girl from life's sorrows. She was a flighty, dreamy girl, always in her own imagination instead of living in the real world, which seemed to be full of hard lessons for her now, at college in the big city.

Bea was too like her in some ways, finding irresistible the forbidden fruit. Destined to be hurt, it seemed.

It has been a long time since Allison had allowed herself to be hurt in that way.

After leaving Princeton-Plainsboro broken hearted so many years ago, she worked with Doctors Without Borders. Her pain had seemed insignificant in contrast to what the people she helped were forced to face every day. She stayed for a time, but when her mother took ill there was no one else to help, and she returned home to the homestead of her parents and grandparents, to ease her mother into a final rest.

When she was alone again, she knew it was time. She may have been past her prime, but for her it had been the right time for motherhood. So, with a little help, Beatrice was brought into the world, and the two of them lived in the home of their ancestors, where the past and present converged on a single plot of land.

Beatrice ran up the aisle, bringing her back to the present. "I've got everything for the sundaes!" the girl said triumphantly. "Are we ready to go?"

_An Affair To Remember_ was the movie they had chosen, and it sat in waiting on the coffee table as the mother and daughter cooked dinner together. Allison, watching her daughter carefully, noted the sadness that crossed her features at times, as if she were remembering anew.

"Would you like to hear more about my Dr. House?" Allison asked gently.

Beatrice smiled. "Sure," she said simply, the sadness slipping away temporarily.

Allison thought. "Let's see… I guess nothing much happened between us until I asked him why he hired me," she said, her face twisting into a bit of a smirk. "Boy was I in for a shock!"

"What did he say?" Bea asked.

Allison shook her head. "He was trying to get under my skin. At least at first, before he explained himself." She stopped and turned to her daughter, a comical look on her face. "He said he hired me because I was pretty." Bea's expression became one of incredulity.

Allison nodded. "Even after he explained himself, I was so angry." She sighed, and quoted, "People choose the paths that grant them the greatest rewards for the least amount of effort."

Bea looked puzzled. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She smiled and shrugged. "He said it was the law of nature for people to do what's easiest for them and what benefits them most. Being a doctor wasn't the easiest path I could have chosen," she said, a faraway look in her eyes.

Bea's eyes stayed trained on her mother, observing closely and waiting for more.

"That's what always puzzled him about me, I think," Allison mused. "I never chose the easy path."

They were silent for a moment before Beatrice spoke. "You're doing it again," she said, almost to herself.

Allison started suddenly, and turned to her daughter with a questioning expression.

"That look," Beatrice clarified. "I see you get it sometimes, when you think no one's looking."

Allison brushed it off. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," she said, more of a lie than she was willing to admit. "The oven's warmed up; let's put the pizza in," she said, diffusing the conversation.

Crumpled tissues littered the coffee table as the movie ended, and sounds of sniffling emanated from both ends of the couch. "Ready for bed, Bea?" Allison asked as she turned off the TV.

Beatrice shrugged and scooted down to the other end of the couch, laying her head on her mother's lap. "I'm not sure if I can sleep," she admitted. "Can I hear more of your story?" she asked hesitantly. "But something happier this time," she added.

Allison's expression spread into a half-smile. "Sure, Bea. Want to hear about when he took me to the monster truck jam?"

"Like a date?" the girl asked brightly.

Allison couldn't help but laugh. "Exactly. Except for the date part."

An hour later Allison was sliding out from under Beatrice's head, putting a pillow in her place. She carefully covered her daughter's body with a blanket, and looked at her child for a moment before turning out the lights. Crying over a movie and hearing Allison's own story had been therapeutic, but she knew that the young woman couldn't begin to heal until she had told her own story. She would tell when she was ready. They had the rest of the weekend together, after all.

Allison headed into her own bedroom and quickly went through her bedtime routine. She slipped under the covers and pushed away the memories she had unexpectedly brought back into her life, willing herself not to dream.

_Heat._

_Bodies entwined, she drank it in. The apartment was chilly, but they had found ways to keep warm._

_His hand slipped between her thighs, moving into a damp place in ways that made her shiver and moan._

_Her lips were everywhere, sucking on his ear, the soft skin of his neck, his chest, those strong hands... She wrapped her fingers around a long shaft of flesh, finding ways to make him moan as she had._

_Soon, her fingers had been peeled away one by one, and he slipped inside her. They moved faster and faster, hands and lips everywhere until ecstasy overcame them, and they gripped at each other as if to keep from falling._

_Soon he pulled away, and the cold was almost too much to bear._

_The silence was worse. The only sound was the clicking of the door._

A/N: Yes, I purposefully left the details of Bea's conception vague. She isn't House's daughter, so it is really pretty much irrelevant in this story.

Hope you enjoyed the sexy dream!


	3. The Remembering and the Telling

Bea's Heart:

The Remembering and the Telling

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

"_If suffering brings wisdom, I would wish to be less wise."_

Allison awoke to a sun-filled room. She pulled a robe around herself and headed to the kitchen to start some coffee, always her first step of the morning. After starting the coffee, she went to check in on Bea.

Beatrice wasn't in the living room, so Allison checked the girl's bedroom, which was empty as well. Heading back to the kitchen, she could see out the window that her car was still in the drive. She couldn't be far away.

Allison headed out on the back porch, but didn't see her anywhere. She was probably wandering in the wooded area behind the house. She wasn't worried, though—Bea knew those woods like the back of her hand, as Allison did. Allison got her coffee and headed back out to the porch to wait and enjoy such a beautiful morning.

She had often enjoyed mornings like this after a long night at the hospital. She would go out on the roof with her mug of coffee and enjoy the warmth and light, using it to revive herself for another day at work.

He had joined her there once.

_She heard the door behind her, but she didn't turn. The step-thump of foot and cane was enough to tell her who it was that joined her._

"_I think since you have the working legs, you should be the one to do the chivalrous thing and give me the roof," he quipped, coming up beside her as she rested her arms on the railing at the roof's edge._

"_But I was here first," she responded, unable to keep her lips from curving upwards into a slight smile._

"_Bum leg," he responded, waving his cane. His trump card. "Eight stairs to the elevator. That's nothing for you. Hell, you could take the stairs all the way down without any trouble."_

_She turned, finally looking at him with a smirk. "We could share," she suggested, knowing she was baiting him._

"_I don't share," he responded, turning face to face with her. _

_They were so close; it was nearly unbearable for Cameron not to touch him. She stepped back. "No, you don't share anything, do you?" she asked rhetorically, with a knowing smile._

_Before she could walk away, he stopped her path with his cane. "What are you still doing here?"_

"_I work in an hour," she replied._

"_You worked all night," he contested._

"_I've pulled 24-hour shifts before," she said, placing a hand on her hip._

"_I'm your boss. I say you can have it off. Go home."_

"_Cuddy's my boss," she affirmed. "I'm scheduled in the clinic."_

_House stepped forward and grabbed her arm. "It's dangerous. You'll make mistakes."_

_She ripped her arm from his hand. "I'll be fine! You' yourself said that clinic work could be done by a monkey with a bottle of Motrin!" Who did he think he was?_

_She began to head inside, but again he grabbed her. "Let me go!" she said angrily, struggling against him. His cane clattered to the ground._

"_No," he said calmly, and he pulled her to him and kissed her square on the lips._

_Despite her protestations, she melted into him, her arms soon around his neck, his hands sliding around her waist, crinkling the party dress she still wore from the night before. _

_It was him who broke the kiss, but she who created the distance between them, the two of them staring at each other, unsure of what had just happened._

_She turned to go._

"_Hey!" he called to her. She stopped and turned._

"_Go home. Get some rest."_

_She nodded._

Allison pulled herself out of her reverie. After all this time, it still felt fresh. How he made her shiver with desire! How he scared her time and time again… how he angered her. How he made her feel every emotion ten times the magnitude of what she felt without him.

She shook her head. It was all in the past now. Her concern now was with Beatrice, who had been gone for some time. Allison went inside with her coffee, now cold. She threw on a pair of jeans and sneakers, and went out to see if she could find Bea. She had a few spots in mind.

"Bea?" Allison called, tramping through the brush. She stopped and looked around, finally spotting it; the old tree house. Her grandfather had built it years ago, and three generations of the family had played in it.

Allison headed over and began to climb the ladder. It had seemed impossibly high when she was young—in her memories it was always that way. Every time she visited it now there was a strange sort of cognitive dissonance between how she saw it and how it was.

Popping her head up through the hole in the tree house floor, she saw her.

Beatrice looked over grumpily. "You always find me," she complained. "Even when I don't want to be found."

"Mom radar!" Allison offered. "Or persistence," she added as she hoisted herself inside.

She sat down a few feet away from her daughter. "What's up, Bea?"

Bea sighed. "I just wanted to be alone for a while."

"Should I not have come after you?" Allison asked.

Bea shook her head. "I've been out here wallowing long enough," she said, and offered a small smile.

Allison smiled back and reached out a hand to her. "Well, I'm not quite ready to head back. I just hiked all the way out here and I need a rest!"

Beatrice laughed. "Stop acting like an old lady!"

Allison made a face. "I am one!" and she laughed with her.

"Well, since we have time… Did anything else happen with your Dr. House?" Beatrice asked.

Allison thought back to her reminiscing earlier that morning. Some things were too close to her heart to share. "It was really all the little things," she said. "Every time I thought he couldn't possibly love me, he would let something slip, do something to show me that it wasn't all in my head."

"Like what?" Beatrice asked.

"Well," Allison said, thinking, "There was a time that he was going to be forced by a new boss to fire one of his fellows. He had the opportunity to keep all of us, but he just couldn't do what he had to to keep all of us," she said simply.

"I quit, because it was better than being fired."

Beatrice looked indignant. "Why would he fire you?"

Allison squeezed Bea's hand. "He didn't have much choice. Dr. Foreman was the superior doctor, no question about that. Dr. Chase…"

Bea interrupted. "Your husband, Dr. Chase?"

Allison grimaced. "That would be the one. Though this was years before that." Bea cocked an eyebrow, but stayed wisely silent.

"Dr. Chase was essentially the bosses' spy. He wasn't going to get fired," she explained. "That left me."

She paused for a moment, pushing a strand of auburn hair streaked with silver out of her eyes. "So I quit. I found another job. But before I even started my new job he came to my door to ask for me back." She smiled to herself. "He wouldn't take no for an answer."

"So you went back?" Beatrice asked.

Allison nodded. "I went back."

After a moment of quiet, Beatrice's stomach rumbled. Allison grinned. "Lunch time?"

They spent most of the day together, and Allison shared more of her story. They had dinner quietly, both of the women feeling introspective. It was after dinner that Beatrice finally spoke the words that Allison had been waiting for.

"Mom?" she said apprehensively. "I think I'm ready to talk now."


	4. Journey's End

Bea's Heart:

Journey's End

…

A/N: Sorry I've been slower than usual to update… I've just been trying to recover from the insane semester I just finished and have been busy looking for work! I'll try to get back on the Hameron fanfiction wagon!

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

…

"_Life is a long preparation for something that never happens"_

…

It was after dinner when the two of them were lounging on the porch swing that Beatrice began her story, one that felt strangely familiar to Allison. A story of longing looks and hidden passion only abetted by the dangerous situation in which it flourished.

They could not avoid each other despite both of their best efforts. His hand would linger over hers when handing her a test. They would steal kisses in his office when she went in to have a chat. It evolved into more than just a simple mutual interest.

She stopped by his apartment once. They made love.

"Even on the day he left," Beatrice reflected, "He kissed me." She paused. "I don't understand how he can do that. How he can kiss me one minute so passionately," she implored. "And then turn and leave me forever the next."

Allison sighed. "The young always think that a kiss can move mountains," she said, a tender hand stroking her daughter's hair. "A kiss is a fickle thing," she continued, her eyes gone to that faraway place again. "It doesn't always change things, as much as it should."

"You and your Dr. House had your share of kisses, huh?" Beatrice inferred.

Allison couldn't help but smile a little. "This is your turn to talk, Bea," she reminded.

Beatrice grinned despite her sadness. "You're evading, Mom. Did you sleep with him?"

"Bea!" Allison exclaimed. "That's none of your business."

Bea smiled smugly. "You did."

"Does it matter?" Allison asked.

"No, but it is interesting," Beatrice admitted. "Anyways, I'm done. I'd rather not keep dwelling on it anyways. There's nothing more to my story, at least for now." She sighed. "And if Thomas has his way, there will be nothing more."

"Dear Bea," Allison said, hugging her close. "Your Thomas doesn't know what he's missing."

…

Morning came. It was Sunday. The weekend was getting old, and Bea would be returning to her college campus that evening. Allison woke her with homemade French toast and tea, as Beatrice didn't like coffee. They sat down to breakfast together, as they used to back in the days when Bea lived at home.

"You have to finish the story, Mom," Beatrice said. "Before I go back."

Allison breathed a sigh as she leaned back in her chair, thinking. "Well, to be honest, I'm not very proud of the rest of this story."

"Why's that?" Bea asked, resting her head on her palm.

Allison looked at her hands. "I… made a lot of mistakes." She looked up. "I knew I was making them, and I made them anyway."

She began. "Did I ever mention that House had a limp?"

Bea frowned and shook her head.

Allison laughed. "Funny that I could leave out such an integral part of him. He walked with a cane. He had a blood clot in his thigh that progressed to an infarction, years before I worked for him. Because no one diagnosed him soon enough, they wanted to cut off his leg. He refused. While he was in a medically induced coma, his girlfriend, who was his medical proxy, let them cut out most of his thigh muscle." She paused, looking sorrowful. "He walked with a cane, and he was in pain every day of his life."

Beatrice looked horrified. "That's terrible!" she said.

Allison nodded. "I know." She continued her story. "While I worked for him, he got shot by a patient." Bea gasped, but Allison paid it little mind, continuing. "He came out of it fine, but while he was still under afterwards he was given a drug that had the potential to make his pain go away for good."

"Did it?" Bea asked.

"For a while." Allison began again, sounding regretful. "I couldn't see it at the time, but I had a very short window then to maybe have something real with him. There was a while that he seemed open to me, but it wasn't long after the pain returned that he pushed me away again."

"That's awful," Bea interjected. Allison nodded.

"I'm sorry to say that I didn't react well," Allison admitted. "I began a sort of relationship with Dr. Chase in hopes to provoke him. It didn't. But Chase began pursuing me for something more serious."

She paused to take a sip of her coffee. "I resisted at first. But when things truly seemed hopeless with House, I tried to rid myself of everything of him. I quit my job, and I finally gave in to Chase."

Beatrice, listening intently, said nothing, though her expression was one of concern.

"I kept reminding myself that Chase loved me, that I would never get House. I told myself that I was over House," she said. "I kept dragging my feet with Chase, and things kept… happening between House and I."

"Like what?" Beatrice asked.

"_Three weeks." Cameron said, holding up three fingers. She couldn't contain her grin. "For someone who never misses something small, you missed something big."_

_House was not amused. "You're an idiot."_

"_The hair, where I'm working, or both?" she quipped._

"_The hair makes you look like a hooker. I like it."_

_He saw her again that night in the parking lot with the hood of her car open. "Car trouble?" he asked._

_Cameron gave him a look. "What do you think?" she asked crabbily._

"_Why isn't your knight in shining armor here to save you?" House snarked._

"_He left early," Cameron said, leaning back over the engine. "He's spending the weekend in New York with a friend."_

_House rolled his eyes. "Men," he said sarcastically._

_Cameron sighed, standing upright. She wiped her wrist on her forehead, pushing her hair out of her face. "Can you get this?" she asked, holding a tool out to him._

_He rolled his eyes again, but limped over. "So how does it feel to know your boyfriend's hair is prettier than yours?" he began._

_Cameron made a face. "Do you really—"_

_House dropped the tool on the ground, frustrated. "Call a mechanic." He began to limp away._

_A few steps away he turned back. "Need a ride?"_

"_But…you brought the bike today," Cameron said uncertainly._

"_Fine. Stay. Looks like rain, though."_

_Cameron sighed. "Okay, I'm coming."_

_House was right. It started raining a few minutes into the ride and was nearly pouring by the time they pulled up at Cameron's apartment._

_Cameron invited him inside to wait for the rain to die down. "I don't want you getting in an accident because you offered to take me home," she said. _

_They were both soaked to the skin. "I think Robert left some clothes here," Cameron offered. "And we can throw yours in the dryer."_

"_I'm not wearing any of Chase's clothes," House said stubbornly._

_Cameron rolled her eyes and headed into her bedroom, leaving House to his own devices._

_She returned with a large t-shirt in hand. "It isn't Chase's," she told him. "In fact, he hasn't even touched it! It isn't contaminated," she teased._

_She grabbed a towel out of the bathroom and handed it to him, before heading back into the bedroom. "Dry off and make yourself at home," she called to him. "I'll be out in a sec."_

_She began to undress, peeling off layers of wet clothes when she heard a knock on the door. She grabbed her robe, but not fast enough before the door opened to reveal House in only boxers, holding the shirt out in his hand. "If this isn't Cha—" he began, only to be stopped in his tracks by a naked Cameron scrambling to cover herself with a short robe. He looked her up and down, admiring what he saw._

"_House!" she hissed. "Get out of here!" she protested, despite admiring his shirtless body._

_He looked at her pointedly. "I don't think you want me to." He stepped into the room, dropping the shirt on the ground as he came closer._

"_I don't want to either," he said, slowly taking the robe from her hands._

Bea's jaw dropped. "You did sleep with him!"

Allison gave her a look. "Bea, I'm not proud of what I did—"

Bea interrupted, "What happened next?"

Allison gave in with a sigh. "It happened several times. We never meant it to…it just happened. Chase suspected I still had feelings for House, but he never knew." She shook her head, feeling guilty.

Bea rubbed her mother's arm, giving her quiet comfort. Allison looked up sharply. "It never happened while I was married, though," she said emphatically. "I would never let that happen."

"Why did you marry at all?" Beatrice asked, confused.

"I kept convincing myself that what happened between House and I was a fluke. That I could never have him and I should just move on with my life. I thought I had to," she said with a shrug. "Funnily enough, the only time I was able to move on is when I freed myself of them both," she admitted.

"In the end, it was Chase who chose House over me, which was ironic since he was always afraid I would leave him for House," she said with a half-smile. "So I said my goodbyes to both of them and left town."

"And then what?" Bea said with rapt attention.

Allison shrugged. "I never saw him again."

Bea looked disappointed. "That's it?"

"That's it."

"Where is he now?" Bea asked intently.

Allison shook her head. "I don't know. With all the pain pills and alcohol, I imagine he's probably long gone by now," she said sadly. She looked at her watch. "Don't you need to get ready to head back?"

Bea sighed. "Yeah," she said with a sigh. She stood. "I'll get to packing."

…


	5. A Plan

Bea's Heart:

A Plan

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

…

"_How can we know the dancer from the dance?"_

…

Beatrice was feeling pretty down on the drive back to school. Her mom's story had cheered her up for a while, but now she was going back to the real world, where her love was leaving her, which was something she just didn't want to think about right now.

Instead, she thought about her mom's story, which wasn't much better, really. The idea that Dr. House could be dead—it was heartbreaking. After all she head heard the entire story, it was hard to just let it go. Her Mom could be wrong.

She had to know. She began to push the accelerator harder. She needed to get back to her dorm and get to a computer.

…

Once Beatrice got to her dorm room, she got on the computer right away. She looked up the website for Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. She found the section for the diagnostic department, but his name wasn't there.

She'd just have to call up and see if anyone could tell her anything. She had a way of getting what she wanted—this would be no different; someone would talk.

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital, this is Carla in the clinic!" the voice said cheerfully.

"Hello, this is Beatrice Cameron," Bea replied.

"How can I help you, Beatrice?" Carla asked.

"Well, I'm wondering if maybe you or someone else there can help me find someone," Bea said in her sweetest voice.

"I can't give you any information about our patients, but if it's a doctor, I may be able to help," Carla responded, sounding regretful.

"Are you familiar with a Dr. Gregory House?" Beatrice asked.

"Dr. House! He's a legend around these parts!" Carla said with a laugh. "He doesn't work here anymore, though. He was forced into retirement a few years ago!"

"I need to find him!" Bea implored. "It's very important!"

"Well, I hardly knew the man myself," Carla admitted. "Our head nurse might know more than I do. She worked with him for a long time. She has some stories!" Carla chuckled. "Can you hang on just a moment?"

"Sure," Bea said thankfully. Easy listening music came across the line immediately after, signaling to her that she was on hold.

Beatrice waited impatiently for a few minutes before the music stopped. "This is Nurse Brenda. I understand you're looking for Dr. House?"

"Yes," Bea said, sitting up straighter. This woman seemed much more businesslike than the chatty Nurse Carla. "Do you have any information on where he might be now?"

"Well," Brenda said, "Last I heard, he and Dr. Wilson moved to Trenton, some kind of retirement community or something. Carriageway or Carriage House…something to do with carriages. I haven't heard anything since then, though. Could be anywhere by now."

"Okay, well, thank you for your help!" Bea responded. "I appreciate it."

"I don't have time for this, but if you don't mind indulging me…what on earth could you want with that old jerk anyways?" Brenda asked nosily.

"I just wanted to help him reconnect with an old friend," she said carefully.

"An old friend?" Brenda laughed. "I didn't know he had any but Dr. Wilson!"

Bea had thought her mother had exaggerated about Dr. House's personality, but from the looks of things, she hadn't been exaggerating much at all. "Yes, well… thank you!" she said quickly, hanging up the phone. She was a little annoyed—Brenda had made her mission sound completely absurd! But she didn't have time to dwell on it now. She had to find that retirement home.

After a brief Google search, she found one that looked promising: Carriagehouse Retirement Village in Trenton, New Jersey. It was getting late, though; she'd have to call them on Monday.

…

Monday came, but she wasn't having the luck she had hoped. She had confirmed that there was a Dr. Gregory House at Carriagehouse Retirement Village, but they refused to give her his room number or extension—it was against policy.

"Look, even if I were to give you his phone extension, Dr. House doesn't take phone calls," the woman said. "He doesn't read mail either, on the rare occasions he receives it," the woman confessed.

"But I've got to talk to him!" Beatrice implored. "This is important!"

The woman sighed. The girl really did sound desperate. "I'm sorry, dear, but my hands are tied. I can be fired for giving out resident information."

"Isn't there anything you can do?" Bea said, nearly in tears.

"Well…" the woman drew out, "You might try sending it to his best friend, Dr. James Wilson. He lives here too, and Dr. House would be more likely to receive it that way than any other I know," she said with a shake of her head. "I can't give you his room number either, but if I see your letter… I'll make sure it gets to him."

"Oh, thank you!" Beatrice said gratefully. "Thank you so much!"

After hanging up the phone, she sat down at her desk to begin the most difficult task so far: writing the letter.

_Dr. House,_

_You don't know me, but…_

…


	6. Window to the Past

Bea's Heart:

Window to the Past

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

…

"_For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand."_

…

"You've got to write back," Wilson insisted.

"I'm not going to write back," House responded firmly.

"But you have to!" Wilson implored.

"No, I don't have to, you want me to! Those are two very different things," House said, holding his ground.

"The girl said in the note to write back if you still loved her!" Wilson argued.

"And I don't!" House thundered. "Case closed. It's very simple."

Wilson's face spread into a smile. "If you don't why do you still have that picture in your drawer?"

House needed no further explanation—he kept few mementos around, and this one in particular was a sore spot for him. He looked angrier than ever as he yelled at Wilson. "Why are you going through my things?"

"You love her. Write back or I will," Wilson said, grinning.

House fell silent, giving Wilson a death glare. The last thing in the world he needed was Wilson writing back. Wilson and the kid would probably become best friends and plan a wedding before either he or Cameron heard about it. He sighed, his glare darkening into a scowl. "Fine. I'll write."

…

Beatrice pulled the mail out of her mailbox and thumbed through it. A letter from Mom, a couple of magazines, coupons and advertisements, and a letter with no return address. Could this be it?

She raced back to her dorm to read, carefully slipping her fingers under the flap of the envelope to slide the letter out.

_Dear whatever your name was,_

_What were you trying to get out of writing me? Nice job, sending it through Wilson. I'll be making sure whoever tipped you off will pay for it. If all you wanted was an admission of love, you're not going to get it. If you want permission to come visit, you're not going to get that either. If your mom is looking for a geriatric romp in the hay, look elsewhere. I'm not quite up to bedroom gymnastics anymore, though your super best friend Dr. Wilson might be willing. Anyways, whatever you're looking for, you won't find it here. A word of advice: Stop wasting your time reading so many romance novels. _

_Don't contact me again._

_Dr. H._

Bea was nearly in tears by the end of the letter. How could he be so cruel? Her mother hadn't exaggerated at all—this man must be the most awful person she had ever come in contact with! All he did was mock her! How could her mom possibly have loved this man?

She dropped her head onto her palm, and filtered dejectedly through the rest of the mail. She didn't really feel like reading her mom's letter right now. Most of the rest was junk. She picked up one of the magazines to flip through, but something fell to the floor as she did. She leaned over to get it. Another strange letter.

She looked over it apprehensively. This one did have a return address: Carriagehouse Retirement Village. At this point she had no idea what to expect—she had already received a letter in return! She apprehensively opened the letter and unfolded the page.

_Dear Beatrice,_

_I imagine you've received Dr. House's letter. I haven't read it, but based on the scowl he wore while writing, I can imagine what kind of things he might have said. By the way, I'm James Wilson. You can call me Wilson; everyone does. I hope you don't mind me being so forward as to write to you, but I couldn't let House write you and leave things be. What he is too cowardly to say is that he is still in love with your mother. I have proof, in fact! The photo enclosed is a copy of one that he still keeps after all these years. Your mother would laugh at the idea of House as a secret romantic! I "borrowed" it to make a copy in the office while the nurses weren't paying attention._

_I knew your mother well when we worked together at Princeton-Plainsboro. I'd love to catch up with her! She was a wonderful doctor and a wonderful friend. _

_ If you can get her here, I know House would love to see her, as much as he protests otherwise. I'll help you out in any way I can. There's not that much excitement here, and I've always enjoyed playing matchmaker! I'm in apartment number 243, which is also my extension if you ever need to call—and don't hesitate to! I'm looking forward to meeting you and reuniting with your mother._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. James Wilson_

Bea's angry tears had dried. Could it be true? She looked at the second page that had been folded with the letter. Her mother stood with her arm around this tall man with a cane. She looked radiant. He looked…well, as if he didn't smile often. Like he was indulging her—like he wanted to be angry…but just couldn't. Bea felt her heart soften to this man in spite of herself.

Well, she had an ally now. All she needed to do was convince her mother.

…

She made it home before her Mom that Friday and waited. Allison met her daughter with surprise. "Home again on a weekend? That's twice now this semester!" She set down her bag on the kitchen table.

"Well, Mom, I had something to tell you," Bea said, proud of herself.

Allison looked confused. "What is it, Bea?"

"Well, I found your Dr. House. He is still alive after all."

Conflicting emotions crossed Allison's face. She dropped into a chair slowly. "Bea…how…" She collected herself. "How did you manage that? Where is he?"

"It wasn't that hard—I just made a couple calls," she replied triumphantly. "He's in a retirement village in Trenton." Allison looked completely taken aback by all of this.

"Mom," she added, changing her tone, "You have to go see him."

"No," Allison said firmly. "He wouldn't want to see me."

"But Mom!" Beatrice whined, "You have to!"

Allison shook her head and stood, beginning to put her things away. "That would be a very, _very_ bad idea," she said in a measured voice.

"But why?" Bea cried out, following her mother around. "He loved you! I'm sure he would love to see you again!"

Allison slowed her movements and turned to her daughter with a sad expression. "If he wanted me, he had his opportunity already. He let me leave. He didn't try to follow, didn't try to make me stay. He knew I would have done anything if he'd said the word."

"But, Mom, things change," Bea urged.

"These things don't happen in real life, Bea," Allison said sorrowfully. "I'm so sorry."

"You don't think he still loves you?" Bea asked.

Allison shook her head. "I'm not sure if he ever did," she admitted.

"Then why would he still have this?" Beatrice asked, taking the photocopied picture out of her purse and handing it to her mother.

Allison looked from Beatrice to the photo and back again. "Where did you get this?" she asked, her voice laced with amazement, desperation, and, perhaps, hope.

"Dr. Wilson," Bea replied reluctantly. "He said you were fr—"

"Wilson!" Allison interrupted excitedly. "How is he, I wonder?"

"He really wants you to visit," Bea said hopefully.

Allison looked at the photo. A blast from the past, it had been taken the night of the monster truck rally, at her insistence. After promising that no one at work would ever see it, he allowed her to take it. She had put a copy in his mailbox, but he never acknowledged receiving it.

She ran a finger over the photo. They looked so happy. And for House to still have a copy, long after hers had gone missing…

She looked up at the overly excitable, impatient Beatrice. "Okay," she said with a sigh. She nodded. "We'll go."

…


	7. Something Good

Bea's Heart:

Something Good

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

…

"_How far away the stars seem, and how far is our first kiss, and ah, how old my heart."_

…

A couple of months had passed, and it was May, the week before Bea's final exams. Bea had been insistent that, since she had the week off, a couple days away from studying would be no problem. She was so insistent that Allison gave in, with the condition that Bea would study on the plane, which is what she was currently doing. But the closer they got to arrival, the more apprehensive Allison became.

The captain announced that they would be coming in for landing soon. Allison felt queasy. "Be right back," she said, and headed for the restroom.

Allison leaned over the counter in the small bathroom and took in several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She was rarely this nervous for anything. She looked up in the mirror and examined herself critically, like he would.

Streaks of silver marred her beautiful hair. Thin wrinkles had formed around her eyes and mouth. She was getting old.

She sighed nervously. Why was she doing this? Every time she had attempted to pursue House it had ended badly.

She reached into her purse, pulling out the carefully folded photocopy. The photo was the one thing that gave her hope that this time maybe he wouldn't be running from her.

She stared at it for a few moments. The memories weren't perfectly clear anymore, but she did love him once. Maybe she still did.

And with the photo, maybe there was a chance that he still loved her too.

The pilot made another announcement about landing. She needed to head back to her seat.

When she sat down, Beatrice grabbed her hand. "Calm down, Mom," she whispered. "It's going to be fine."

…

Wilson was waiting for them when they arrived. He looked a little greyer than she remembered, but was otherwise the same man she remembered from twenty years prior.

They hugged happily, and Allison introduced him to Bea, for whom he only had words of praise after their continuing correspondence.

"House's room is down the hall," Wilson said, leading them slowly in that direction. Allison tensed with anxiety. What if he really didn't want to see her?

They arrived at his room much more quickly than Allison had hoped, and Wilson knocked on the door. "House!" he called. "Someone here to see you."

"Bull," she heard from the other side of the door.

Allison looked at Wilson, who just shrugged. "I'm bringing her in," he called back, opening the door.

Her eyes zoned in on him immediately. At that moment there was no one else.

She approached with trepidation. His body that once towered over her was now confined to a wheelchair. The brown of his hair was a thing of the past. But two piercing spots of blue peered out from beneath a furrowed brow. She knew those eyes.

She felt apprehensive, felt small. She felt like she was in her twenties again, interviewing for a job with the terrifying man with the beautiful blue eyes.

"Hello, House," she said simply.

He didn't respond, only stared at her intensely. "Wilson!" he yelled. Wilson was nowhere to be found—and neither was Beatrice, Allison realized. The two of them had conveniently disappeared while she wasn't watching.

"Damn him," House said, resigned. He waved to a seat next to him. "You may as well sit down," he said ungraciously. She sat.

"I thought you'd be dead," she said, unable to think of what to say.

"Yeah, well," he replied, "Old bastards like me never die."

She smiled. "How are you?" she asked.

"Never better," he said sarcastically, motioning to his wheelchair. Allison looked down at her hands.

They were quiet for a few moments, and she looked around the room. Even in this place, he kept his piano. He spoke again. "So I hear you popped out a kid," he said unceremoniously.

Allison smiled a bit. "Yeah, twenty years ago," she responded with a touch of sarcasm.

"Don't blame me, I'm not the one who fell off the face of the planet," he accused.

Allison's eyes drifted to the window. "It seemed the best option at the time."

They were silent again.

"You ran away." His eyes were on her accusingly.

"No," she firmly answered. "I was breaking free."

House sneered. "You tried and tried," he said, studying her. "But you never really broke free of me, did you?"

Allison stood and walked towards the window. He could see her fists tighten, as she tried to control her emotions. Satisfaction rose in him when he realized he still knew how to push her buttons.

"I was free of you for twenty-five years," she finally said as she stared out the window.

"Then why are you here?" he asked triumphantly. He had her under his thumb now. It was just so easy.

She turned back towards him, her blue-gray eyes shiny with unshed tears. "Because of this," she answered, pulling a worn, folded paper from her purse.

She held it out to him, and he unfolded it in trepidation. Before him was the picture from his drawer. He looked up at Allison, who smiled triumphantly. "You were never free either, were you?" she asked softly.

He crumpled it decisively in his hand, gripping it tightly, as if by making it small it would go away. "Where did you get this?" he asked. She was silent.

"Where did you get this?" he bellowed.

"Wilson," she responded, clearly unnerved by his demeanor.

House fell back in his chair. The crumpled paper dropped from his hand and rolled away. Damn Wilson. Damn him to hell. He looked over to Allison, who was standing in the corner uneasily.

"What did you think coming here would do?" he demanded. "Did you expect me to fall all over you, tell you how I've always loved you and how I want you still?"

The tears threatened to fall. "No! I—"

He interrupted her. "Do you think I can ever have you now? Stuck in this chair for the rest of my life, withering away like the old useless piece of shit I am! How dare you come here and flaunt what I can never have now." He breathed out angrily. _"How dare you!"_

Allison fled the room in tears. House fell back in his chair again, exhausted. Perhaps he had been too hard on her… but no, she shouldn't have come.

After regaining his strength he wheeled himself to the window, where she had been just moments before, and looked out on the garden.

Like a ghost, she appeared before him again, weeping in the garden. Oblivious to his spying, she sat down on a nearby bench. He saw in her hands the crumpled page, which she must have picked up without him noticing. She smoothed it out as best she could as he watched.

She was still very beautiful, he decided, even after all these years. The first bloom of youth had faded, that was true. But her eyes were still clear and bright, her skin still soft, and that irresistible _something_ about her, that which made her Allison Cameron… _that_ was still there. He wanted her.

He cursed his body for being too old and weak. He was lucky to be alive, intellectually he knew that, and yet he hated himself for not being young enough, virile enough… worthy enough for her.

Despite everything, he was so drawn to her. He couldn't help himself; he _must_ go to her.

When he went outside, she was staring at the photo. The tears were gone, but her hands shook slightly, like leaves in the breeze. He wheeled himself next to her bench. "That was a good day, wasn't it?" he said, nodding towards the photo.

Allison's face showed a hint of a smile. She stroked her finger across the worn photocopy. Hers and House's likenesses stared back from the page. "Yes, it was." She paused. "I wish there had been more days like that one."

House nodded. He looked around the garden. There were several groups of people milling about the garden. He noticed Wilson and Beatrice chatting animatedly on a bench a bit away. House inclined his head towards them. "What's her name again?" he asked.

Allison looked over and smiled warmly at the sight of her daughter. "Beatrice. After the Beatrice in Much Ado About Nothing. Though, I'm afraid, Bea is nothing like her at all. She's far too innocent for her age."

"I don't know, writing me was pretty ballsy," House mused.

Allison laughed lightly. "Maybe the Beatrice in her is going to come out after all."

"She sounds like you," House responded after a moment, studying her.

"Too much so, sometimes," Allison said with a sigh. "Too innocent. Too stubborn. Destined to follow single mindedly what she loves, even if it kills her," she finished, looking at House before turning away again. Silence overtook them.

"I'm sorry," House said finally, making Allison look up in surprise.

"For earlier," he clarified. Allison nodded quickly, looking down at her lap.

"I shouldn't have come," she said.

House shook his head. "No… In spite of everything, I'm glad you did."

Allison looked up at him, meeting those bright blue eyes, and smiled.

"I don't know why you keep coming back to me," House said.

Cameron looked down, her smile gone soft. "Like a moth to a flame," she reflected. She smoothed the paper in her hands. "I keep getting burned."

"But you keep coming back," House said, reaching over to place a hand across hers. "I think I will die without understanding you, Allison Cameron."

Allison smiled. "Old bastards like you don't die, remember?"

…

A/N: To explain the Much Ado About Nothing reference – Beatrice was very daring and independent. It's a great play, and there's a good movie version starring Kenneth Branagh and Emma Thompson that has Robert Sean Leonard (Wilson!) in it also! You should check it out. :)


	8. Bea and the Professor

Bea's Heart:

Bea and the Professor

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: The flighty Beatrice Cameron falls in love with her professor, a forbidden love that can never be requited. Her mother becomes an unlikely sympathizer, sharing a story of her own love and loss. H/C.

…

"_The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time."_

…

Allison and Beatrice spent a couple more days with House and Wilson. Allison rarely left House's side. They had spent a lifetime apart. They only had a few days together, and she was determined to make the most of them.

Wilson and Bea became close as well. Wilson hadn't wanted children when he had been younger, but now, when old age was closing in on him, he realized what he had missed, and he treasured the chance to have Beatrice, if even for a little while.

Bea was just glad to see her mother happy.

But soon the trip was over; they had to return home.

Bea whispered to her mom as they got on the plane, "I promised Wilson that I'd come back to visit him. Is that okay?"

Allison smiled and squeezed her daughter's hand. "Of course, Bea. We'll both come back."

The plane ride back was quiet, both of them in their own thoughts about the time they had spent. They landed in Chicago, and Allison dropped Beatrice back off at her university before heading out to the homestead again. Before she let her out of the car, she gave her a tight hug. "Bea…" she began as she pulled away to look at her. She had tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Bea just smiled.

…

The semester had come to an end. Final exams had been taken, grades had been turned in. Bea was nearly ready to return home, but she had one last stop.

The heavy wooden door still had his name one it. She knocked.

Dr. Thomas Brookshire sighed heavily. "The exam grades are posted online," he called out, hoping whoever was on the other side of the door would go away. He was busy packing; he didn't have time for students' questions.

Instead, it opened. Annoyed, he turned to address whoever had entered his office without permission. He was stopped short when he saw her. "Beatrice," he breathed.

Bea's heartbeat quickened. He was the only one who called her by her full name, and oh, how sweet it sounded! To think she would never hear it again— "Hello, Thomas," she said abruptly, stopping that thought before it went too far.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her. She took a moment to look him over, committing him to memory. He was tall and broad shouldered, with dark curls shorn close to his head. His steely grey eyes bored into her.

"Calm down, Thomas," she said gently. "I just wanted to say goodbye." He stood still, unsure of what she intended as she came close and pulled him into a kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her feverishly and not wanting to let go.

Eventually his self-control returned and he pulled his mouth from hers. "We can't do this, Beatrice."

She sighed, tears forming in her eyes. "I know." She took a step away and picked up a snow globe off his desk, toying with it. "I understand why you're doing this."

His eyes snapped to hers, but her eyes were trained on the toy she held in her hand. "You do?" In an excruciatingly long moment, she stayed silent, shaking the globe and putting it down on the desk. She finally met his eyes, and she nodded.

"I know that this can't happen right now," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "But please…" she stopped to compose herself. "When the time is right, find me again." She stepped towards him and pressed a slip of paper in his hand. He looked at it. It simply had an address.

"Beatrice…" he began. "People move," he said simply.

"We don't." Her voice was staunch. "I'll be there."

He saw something in her eyes that made him back down. He nodded, and she visibly relaxed, taking a step backwards.

"So I guess this is goodbye," Bea said forlornly.

"It has to be," Thomas responded, reminding himself as much as her.

This time it was him who pulled her close. He kissed her gently this time, but in his arms around her she could sense the urgency in it, the tightness with which he held her for the last time. When their lips parted, he still did not let her go.

"Goodbye, Beatrice," he said in a low voice.

"Goodbye, Thomas," hers just a whisper.

He released her, and had the overwhelming urge to pull her back to him. Instead, he turned to his bookshelf to continue to pack.

Just as she had her hand on the door, he spoke, still turned away from her. "I'm doing this because I love you," he said.

Bea turned from the doorknob for just a moment. She smiled gently. "I know." And then she was gone.

Thomas continued his packing, taking the books off his shelf and placing them in boxes. He stopped at a particular book. The one she had given him for his birthday in March.

He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and eyed it, then slipped it inside the cover of the book.

Someday.

…

A/N: Short chapter, I know, but I hope the ending was satisfying! Thanks for reading!


End file.
